


Through the Universes Darkly

by mountland



Category: Elementary (TV), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Character Death, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:25:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountland/pseuds/mountland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many universes that exist side by side, variations of each other. In all of them Holmes and Watson exist, but their stories are not always happy ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Universes Darkly

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine.

There are many universes that exist side by side, variations of each other. Most people exist alongside a few alternatives of their own story. But some people are tied to each other with the gold string of fate which weaves itself through all universes, and all times, as all possible pairings of their souls are played out for eternity. Such pairings are few and far between, many lay claims to such a bond in the throes of romance, but when they do occur it needs not be stated out loud as their bond is visible for all who wish to see, in whichever reality they find themselves.

In some universes their stories are similar; “be dressed and downstairs in five minutes, Watson” he commands as his narrow body stalks out of a room contained a confused and still half asleep Watson. While in another “You’ve got 2 minutes to eat that food you’ve been playing with for the last half hour or I will not be accompanying you to the dance house” declares Watson. In this universe Holmes face is rounder, eyes warmer.

But in others they are worlds apart. In most realities his body does not lust for others, but in some it does. In all he loves Watson, even if they never meet. In a few he coverts women and in others Watson is female. Once the two collided, Watson has jet black hair and an American accent, they love but do not lust. In one he desires both sexes but only loved and desired his Watson. But that Watson did not return his sentiments, he can never decide if it was their fear of Wilde’s fate or Watson’s passion for the fairer sex that sealed their fate. It’s these universes of unrequited love that ache, maybe more so than the ones where they never meet, searching for that someone who they unconsciously turn to talk to but never find.

In some they depart together in what others will call a blaze of glory but instead feels like terror and heat and tastes of blood and betrayal, once of smoke filled stupidity.  More often than is fair they never meet; separated by centuries, cultures, class, once a street which they never crossed to meet and in some by death. A young drug addict overdosed in an alleyway, a miscommunication while under siege that has the wrong helicopter turn up far too late, leaving another flag covered coffin to make its lonely way home.  Yet these are not the cruellest worlds, that title belongs by far to the ones where they meet but one life line is cut short while the other withers and decays with time. In one world it rained the night before Reichenbach instead of after, the stone his foot braced against slipped in the wet, soft soil and his bones lie with Moriarty’s, instead of John’s, for all eternity. In another he moves towards his Watson too slowly and a bullet finally does what ones fired in battle had failed to do. He is not sure which ones are the cruellest, the ones where he is loved until his dying day yet leaves his Watson a broken man screaming his name, or the ones where he alone bears that sorrowful burden. Maybe it is not that factor which decides who wins the title, as in some the comfort of knowing that they loved and were loved in return soothes many pains, while in others words in life unsaid but softly spoken to unhearing headstones haunt them in their sleep.

In some they are criminal and their legs ache from the treadmill, in others they are heroes, the two options overlap more than history cares to remember, yet they are everything they ever could have been. In others the world does not allow such greatness to flourish; hands cuffed in chains and sold to the highest bidder or a life of moving from doss house to doss house as the urban machine of industrialisation and ‘progress’ swallow their slums, the rank of their birth chaining them to dirt.

But for all the pain of wasted lives, lives half lived, hearts broken and hearts stopped before their prime they both would choose to endure it for the lives lived in front of the crackling fire, hands resting against each other and a smile worn on their lips. That moment is worth all the darkness the universe has to offer.

**Author's Note:**

> Critique welcomed with open arms.


End file.
